Identity
by pxlenno
Summary: You've always believed in fate- the unexplainable- to referee the way life played out. Sure, some may call it blind faith, and you don't disagree. It wouldn't be called faith otherwise. Set during S1; one character's reflections on the past year.


**Summary: **Set at the end of Season 1; a character's reflections on the year.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own nor am I affiliated with FNL

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**Identity**

"_I thought God would do me a favor, for being such a good girl. Isn't that the stupidest thing you ever heard?"_

You've always been an idealist.

You were always the eager beaver; the young, hopeful little girl with the unfading glint of innocence in your eye. You were the kid who believed in beauty of life, who believed in magic. You know, that kid. The kid who insists on leaving a generous serving of cookies and milk for Santa, each year without fail. The kid who made sure that each and every lost tooth immediately makes it way to the underside of a pillow. Yeah; of course you know that kid. That kid was you.

Well… sure, that was you as a child. Growing up, you've had your occasional doubts about life and the purpose of it, but hey, one would be hard-pressed to find a hormonally-charged teenager who didn't.

But hormones aside, you've always believed in fate- the unexplainable- or the otherworldly wisdom of God, if you will, to referee the way life played out.

Sure, some may call it blind faith, and you don't disagree. It wouldn't be called faith otherwise.

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You were always the ideal.

Amongst the Dillon crowd of free-spirited Texan townsfolk, you've always stood out- you know it, everyone knows it. It doesn't matter that you grew up with everyone, and perhaps it is because Dillon is such a small town that there's no one else to compare to, but you're their town princess. The town gem; the diamond in the rough. Of course, being the daughter of such a socially influential father didn't hurt this image.

Your polite and somewhat bashful mannerisms have, as long as your memory allows you to recall, always managed to imply unto others an air of delicacy. Everyone in town treated you with care as a young girl, as if you could shatter at any moment. Like porcelain, you were polished daily and treated with tenderness.

Your flowing brown locks, your delicate facial features, topped off with what seemed like an always-present smile, only stood to further exemplify this image of you.

Admit it though, you really didn't mind. It felt like an important task, trying to live up to these expectations, being the good girl, right? The perfect daughter, the straight-A student, the head cheerleader, the loyal girlfriend.

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But that's not who you are anymore.

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You're a cynic.

Life is unfair, you know that now. It's not always rainbows and butterflies, unicorns and little puppies. There's more to the world than sitting back and letting fate, or destiny or what not take its course.

You tried that. You trusted fate. And look what fate did to Jason Street's spine.

As for God… the hope that's been instilled in you from childhood, although diminished, still doesn't allow you to completely rule out faith of His existence, but you're done. You're done with waiting for Him to intervene, waiting for His master plan to unfold.

Master plan, huh? You find it darkly ironic. God gave humanity the power to choose, to decide for themselves. Master plan your ass. It was your decision and your decision alone, albeit wrong, to find sexual gratification with Tim. It was Jason's decision to go out with what's-her-face Tattoo Girl. It was good ol' daddy's decision to ultimately tear your family apart. You really don't see how God plays into all this. But when it comes down to it, it's a lose-lose situation. If it wasn't God's choice, then it was ours. Really, what does it matter?

Either way, the damage is done. Blind faith is for children.

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You're a fallen angel.

You're the porcelain girl, not only cracked, but intentionally thrown on the ground, shattered, and stomped on by all. You're falling from grace, and it's not a pretty sight.

You used to believe that good things happen to good people. The validity of that will never be determined, at least by you, anyway. Not anymore.

Somewhere along the line, you slipped. Forgot to put on your good-girl uniform, forgot to wear your smile. Exposed. Shit. But by then, you were too tired to care.

Like you said, you know now that life is unfair. A girl makes a mistake. She screws up, and she's singled out as public enemy number one. Does she deserve all this? The labels, the glares, the attacks, the jokes?

You want to say no; you want to say no so bad. Let the responsibility fall on the shoulders of someone else, anyone else. But truth of the matter is, the treatment you receive from your peers probably pales in comparison to the magnitude of hate you harbor towards yourself.

It's been the soundtrack of these past few weeks, the phrases playing on repeat: You weren't good enough. You screwed up. It's your fault.

You're not at all the angel everyone expected you to be (were you ever?).

Your halo has been stripped off, your wings torn and plucked.

But ironically, it's now, in your unsightly disgrace and humiliation and shame and brokenness that you see yourself for who you truly are.

And perfect sure as hell ain't it.

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You're Lyla Garrity, and you're just human.

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**A/N: **So I know Lyla might not be the most well-liked character out thee, but I think there's more to her than most people think. Anyway, thanks for taking the time to read and reviews would be greatly appreciated :)


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